


Quiet as a Mouse

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Drabble, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Humiliation, Masturbation, offer for sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25201546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: “You’re not as quiet as you think you are, you know?” Charlie said, cutting right to the chase, as he was so wont to do. Hermione typically admired him for it. His blunt honesty and his unwillingness to pussyfoot around a subject was one of the things she found most attractive about him.“I beg you pardon?” Hermione asked, frowning in confusion.“In your room,” Charlie clarified. “After everyone’s asleep. You aren’t as quiet as you think you are, Hermione.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 99
Kudos: 663





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione looked up at a light tap on her shoulder, blinking owlishly in the dim light of the library at Grimmauld Place.

“Charlie?” she asked, her eyes settling on the man who’d distrubed her. 

“Can I have a word, Hermione?” Charlie asked, though Hermione noted when she glanced around in surprise that everyone else already seemed to have cleared out of the library and the door was closed. They were very much alone.

“I... sure,” Hermione said, closing her book and sitting up a little straighter in her chair. “What is it?”

Charlie frowned at her for a moment before sitting in the armchair opposite the one she occupied. Hermione watched him, noting the way the light dancing in the fireplace glinted off the red of his hair and cast his freckled skin in shadow.

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are, you know?” Charlie said, cutting right to the chase, as he was so wont to do. Hermione typically admired him for it. His blunt honesty and his unwillingness to pussyfoot around a subject was one of the things she found most attractive about him.

“I beg you pardon?” Hermione asked, frowning in confusion.

“In your room,” Charlie clarified. “After everyone’s asleep. You aren’t as quiet as you think you are, Hermione.”

Hermione blinked at him, trying to figure out what he meant. Charlie inclined his head slightly and simply raised one eyebrow at her, watching her with that intense gaze of his that so often seemed to set ablaze to her knickers. Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned and Hermione cheeks flushed crimson. Oh no. He couldn’t mean... could he? Surely he couldn’t have heard her when all the lights were off and she indulged in easing the heat he so inspired between her legs every day with his general presence. Surely he couldn’t have heard her getting off to thoughts of him when everyone else was asleep.

“I... I don’t know what you mean,” Hermione tried to maintain her compsoure, though suddenly her hands were sweaty and shaking, and her voice wobbled and she had to clear her throat numerous times. All she wanted to do was get up and run from the room.

“Don’t bullshit me, Hermione,” Charlie argued, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees to stare at her all the more intensely. Damn him and his stare! No one had a right to be able to unravel her so easily with nothing more than a look. 

“I’m not... I...”

“Hermione,” Charlie insisted, and he raised both eyebrows now, his expression fierce. She knew he didn’t like being lied to. She knew alot about Charlie Weasley, actually. “I’ve heard you. I don’t know if you leave your window open, or if you’re doing it for my benefit, or if you truly don’t realise how loud you are. But when you moan like that and call out my name, it’s hard not to hear you.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione breathed, wondering why it suddenly sounded like the ocean was rushing and crashing in her ears. “Oh my god.... You... you heard that?”

“I hear it every night,” Charlie said quietly.

Hermione gasped, dropping her book to the floor and covering her face with her hands. She wanted to run. She wanted to get up and run away as fast as she could, and she didn’t want to stop running until she would never have to look him in the eye ever again, because how was she ever supposed to live something like this down?

“You’re embarrassed,” he deduced, and damn him to the deepest pits of hell for sounding so reasonable about it all. She couldn’t believe he had the gall to even bring it up. This was torturous. 

“I am _so_ sorry,” she blurted out, unsure what else she was supposed to say, assuming he’d brought it up because it was making him uncomfortable. God, he must imagine her to be the biggest pervert to ever live. What a creep he must think her, laying in her bed at night with her fingers at work inside herself and thinking of him and calling out his name. Dear Merlin, have mercy and strike her down now so she wouldn’t have to see his face again. 

“I didn’t bring it up to embarrass you or shame you, Hermione,” Charlie told her quietly and Hermione stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she lifted her face from her hands to meet his gaze.

He had leaned even closer now, and there was a huskiness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. 

“Oh?” she asked, terrified to think what other reason he might’ve had to bring it up, and hoping to hell that it would be something pleasant and nothing embarrassing. 

“You always think of me when you do that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, and there was a seriousness to his tone that made her think he wasn’t asking simply for the sake of teasing her.

“Um... I... usually,” Hermione admitted, though she stammered over the truth of it and her heart was hammering her ribcage like it was a bookie collecting a debt. 

“You ever think about coming upstairs to my room, rather than playing by yourself?” he asked and good Lord, was it even legal for one man to be so intense and so handsome at the same time?

“I... Um... would that have... erm...” Hermione stammered. “I wouldn’t have wanted to disturb your sleep, and I didn’t think you... erm... were aware of my existence, actually.”

Charlie held her gaze in silence for a long, tense minute; his eyes searching her face as though he was trying to figure out if she was being genuine or simply being self-deprecating in her embarrassment. 

“Hermione, the only thing better than being woken to the sounds of you moaning my name would be being woken for the sake of _causing_ you to moan my name that way,” he told her quietly and Hermione was horrified when an actual whimper escaped her throat at the intensity of his stare and the depth of his sincerity. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed shakily, squeezing her legs together on the pulse of desire pounding between them like, boom, boom, boom in time with her racing heart. Was she dreaming? She must be dreaming.

“That is,” Charlie went on. “Assuming you _want_ company in those moments? Some people don’t.”

A slightly hysterical laugh escaped her and Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle it. 

“I... um... company would be preferable,” she managed after she’d controlled herself. 

Sweet merlin, the slow, smouldering smile that spread across his face sizzled through her pscyhe like wildfire. 

“Are you busy now?” he asked, leaning back a little in his armchair and reaching for her with one hand, inviting her into his lap. 

“Oh my god,” Hermione breathed again, and she tripped on the book she had dropped in her haste to accept his hand and climb into his lap, straddling him readily. “Oh my god.”

Charlie began to laugh huskily. “Already got you calling out for a deity, and I haven’t even laid a hand on you yet, _koroleva_.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione repeated and Charlie laughed as he cupped her cheek and tilted her head before claiming her lips for himself. 


	2. Two

Hermione sank into the heat of his body, leaning into his kiss and sliding forward on his lap until the place between her legs that throbbed so insistently met friction. She groaned into his mouth, her tongue flirting with Charlie’s while he threaded his fingers into her hair, working those strong fingers against her scalp and making her hips roll of their own accord.

She’d never felt so touch-starved as she did to finally have Charlie’s hands on her body and his lips on her mouth and his powerful body under hers. Gods, how many nights had she laid awake thinking about doing something just like this. Whenever he was in her vicinity, all she could ever think about was climbing him like a tree and ravishing him until she literally couldn’t move a muscle from sheer exhaustion.

One of Charlie’s hands skidded down her back, arching her into him even more and he bucked up underneath her, meet the roll of her hips hungrily and she broke their kiss to gasp breathlessly. Charlie kissed her neck, trailing a line of fire across her skin, dancing along the length of her collarbone as their bodies found a rhythm, grinding and frotting together ceaselessly.

“Gods, Charlie,” Hermione breathed raggedly when he nipped her shoulder, throwing off her rhythm when her hips bucked in response.

“We should take this upstairs to my room,” he murmured, both of his hands having made their way to Hermione’s rump when he used the powerful strength he’d honed taming dragons to grind her body into his maddeningly. “Someone might walk in if they see the light.”

Hermione honestly couldn’t have cared if they did.

“Okay,” she nodded, her hands kneading his powerful shoulders as her lips found his neck, revelling in the scratch of his five o’clock shadow when it rasped against her sensitive lips.

She squeaked when Charlie didn’t bother encouraging her off him for the sake of facilitating the move. His grip on her bum was apparently all he needed before he leaned forward and rose to his feet with Hermione still clinging to him. Instinctively, she curled her legs around his waist, bringing herself even closer to him, her arms around his neck and she looked down at him wide eyed for a moment. The world looked different from this height and Hermione wondered again if this was some dizzying dream she’d be loath to wake from in the morning.

Charlie gave her one of those slow, smouldering smiles that so lit a fire inside her and Hermione smiled back as he began to move across the library and out the door, heading for the stairs. He caught his foot on the third step when Hermione claimed his lips for herself again, kissing him hungrily and he laughed into her mouth, biting her lower lip gently as he continued up the stairs blindly. She couldn’t wait. She _wouldn’t_ wait. Gods, she’d wanted him from the minute she’d laid eyes on him, and years of sexual tension had brewed between them throughout the war and the years following it. Living in this house with him had been like torture and she couldn’t bear to think that all these months while she’d been alone in her room late at night, he’d been able to hear her moaning his name.

She’d never live it down, but if she could distract him from it by finally ravishing him instead of her own fingers, Hermione wasn’t about to say no. When they reached the landing outside Charlie’s room at the top of the house, he pressed her into the wall, rocking into her and making her crazy.

“Mmmm, inside?” she managed, not particularly wanting to have any of the other residents of the house come to investigate if she started screaming on the landing.

“Yeh,” Charlie managed, kissing her neck, still grinding in her and having trouble tearing himself away.

Hermione was furiously tugging at his shirt, caught as it was under her own thighs, trying to peel him out of it even as he pulled her from the wall and nudged open his bedroom door with his foot. He kicked it closed behind them and set her down to begin ridding her of her clothes, too. He pulled her jumper and her shirt off over her head quickly, leaning forward to allow her to return to favour before he held up a finger.

“Let me ward the door so no one interrupts. And maybe some silencing charms. You’re not at all quiet if the sounds I hear from your room every night are any indication,” he smirked.

Hermione’s cheeks flushed all over again.

“Oh my god,” she repeated, stuck on the phrase amid her miasma of mortification and raging desire.

Rather than defend herself, she just went for his belt, unbuckling it while Charlie quickly cast the necessary charms.

“Vixen,” he accused when she leaned in, pressing her bare torso to his and biting one of his pecs lightly. As soon as he was finished warding, he tossed his wand aside and Hermione squeaked as he yanked her pants down her legs, and her knickers along with them. Suddenly bare but for her bra, Hermione hurried her motions, undoing his belt and ripping open his fly, shucking his jeans from his powerful frame while Charlie reached around her, unsnapping her bra with one hand and pulling that from her body too.

Gods, how many nights had she dreamed of being naked with him. Before she could look her fill over his freckled frame to admire his many colourful tattoos or investigate his numerous burns and scars, Charlie claimed her mouth again, kissing her harder now, his tongue more urgent against her own. He hiked her back up his chest, lifting her into her arms and her legs curled around him, ankles locking at the small of his back.

Carrying her across the room, Charlie walked until his knees hit the bed and he lowered her down onto it, following her down and shuffling her to the middle of the large mattress all without breaking their fervid snog. Gods, the things the man could do with his tongue! Her hands knotted in his wild red hair, pulling at it helplessly, her body arching under his. She’d dreamed for so long of the moment she’d lie beneath him in bed, naked and wanton. She could feel his ardent desire nudging at the junction of her thighs as he laid over her, still kissing her and Hermione shifted under him, trying to align their bodies without breaking their kiss.

Charlie pulled back with a hiss when the hot, hard length of his slid against her folds, drenching him with the desire pooled them. His eyes were wild with lust when he opened them to look down at her for a moment.

“Fuck, I want you,” he practically growled, his hips thrusting, coating himself in her.

“Have me,” Hermione whispered. “Have all of me.”

Charlie’s grin was feral.

“I plan to,” he answered before pulling away.

She whimpered with the loss of his warmth before his lips ghosted over her chest until his warm mouth engulfed her left nipple and a strangled moan tore from Hermione, the stiffened peaks her most sensitive zone.

“Oh god, Charlie,” she moaned, arching into him, gasping needily, her hands clawing at his shoulders and cradling his head, desperate for more.

She squeaked, gasping when he flicked his tongue repeatedly over the pebbled peak while his hands smoothed over her taut abdomen and down between her thighs.

“Charlie,” Hermione gasped desperately, her legs widening of their own accord when his fingers traced between her folds.

Charlie moved his mouth to her right nipple, coinciding with sinking two fingers deep inside of her and Hermione cried out, practically blind with the dual sensation when she was already strung so tight.

“I love those noises you make,” he murmured against her breast before licking her nipping against and sucking playfully.

“Don’t stop,” Hermione gasped, her hips rolling, her back arched, her fingers knotted in his hair.

His moved inside her, curling forward and beckoning.

“Oh… my… god,” Hermione moaned, strangled with her pleasure, held captive by her lust, and so utterly desperate for more.

“So wet for me, _koroleva_?” he taunted, and Hermione was too far gone to be embarrassed now.

“Yes,” she answered. “Gods, yes! Always.”

Charlie was kissing his way across her stomach now, trailing lower, making her crazy, never letting up the rapid beckoning of his fingers right on that special spot deep inside her.

Short sharp gasps tore from Hermione and her head tossed from side to side as he used his thumb to trace gentle circles over her pearl of pleasure while he worked.

“Always?” he asked, looking up at her and Hermione lifted her head, meeting those wild eyes of his that had so bewitched her.

“Yeah,” she whined, gasping, panting desperately. “Yeah. Always, Charlie.”

Hermione squealed when another feral grin took over his face before he scooted the remainder of the way down her body and suddenly buried his tongue inside her along with his fingers. She arched again, squealing at he licked at her hungrily, devouring her, his fingers still working while his tongue replaced his thumb at her clit, swirling and circling skilfully. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t! It was all too much.

Panting and squealing, gasping, Hermione crested her peak, climax swamping her like a tidal wave.

“CHARLIE!” she moaned.

Charlie laughed wickedly between her legs, but he didn’t let up his relentless pace, prolonging the orgasm and wringing every last drop of pleasure from her that he could manage. As it began to ebb, Hermione panted tiredly and Charlie slipped his fingers from between her legs, licking them clean hungrily, never taking his eyes off her as he watched her over the rim of her pubic bone like a predator watching prey and just waiting to pounce. His tongue dipped inside her again and Hermione moaned softly, loosening her grip on his hair slightly as he softened his approach, but still refused to let up.

“You taste so sweet, _koroleva_ ,” he told her, kissing her over and over while she recovered, his tongue dipping inside swirling around, lapping at her endlessly.

God, she’d never imagined it could be this good. Even in her dizziest daydreams starring this man, she’d never imagined bedding him would be this good.

“I want to return the favour,” she told him as he kept at his task, seeming to take perverse delight in her every mewl and gasp and moan.

“Soon,” he promised, still working between her legs, still licking, determined to bring her off again with just his tongue, Hermione suspected.

She couldn’t fight it. She feared he’d wake up tomorrow and regret what he was doing to her here tonight, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. She didn’t want to stop him, and he certainly didn’t seem to be complaining. Surrendering, Hermione closed her eyes, moaning again as his nose nudged her clit when he worked his tongue into her as deep as it would go, probing hungrily, tracing her inner walls like he couldn’t get enough of her taste and Hermione’s body clenched in response, drawing a low moan from him.

“Charlie, please,” Hermione whispered, her fingers in his hair, hips rolling again.

“Please what?” he asked between swirls of his tongue against her clit.

“I want you inside me,” Hermione whispered, lost to her own pleasure and wanton in the knowledge that if he’d heard her jilling-off in her room, he’d probably heard her say more lustful things.

“Fuck,” he muttered into her pussy, renewing his efforts and pinning her thighs open with his large hands when she involuntarily tried to snap them shut around his ears as her pleasure grew.

“Oh, gods, Charlie,” Hermione whimpered, her body going taut as he used his tongue to fuck her, filling her over and over before suddenly closing his lips over her swollen clit and sucking. Hard.

Hermione detonated with a hoarse scream, the steadily building orgasm suddenly exploding through her, singing in her blood and sizzling across her sense. She writhed, bucking against his face and Charlie pinned her even harder, heightening her pleasure ever more when she was powerless to resist his onslaught. He was laughing as he slowly licked away the gush of desire he’d caused, lapping at her lazily now before kissing his way across her pubic bone and over her abs once more.

“You on any contraceptives?” Charlie asked her quietly when he reached her left nipple, circling it with his tongue.

“I take the Potion,” Hermione nodded.

“How do you feel about condoms?” he asked, clearly recognising that some magic folk found them a wretched muggle invention when there were spells to prevent pregnancy and disease.

“Do you have any?” Hermione asked tiredly, squirming as he tormented her hyper-sensitive nipple with the very tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, if you want ‘em,” he nodded toward the nightstand by the bed. “Prefer the spells, myself.”

“You left your wand on the floor over there,” Hermione reminded him, pointing to where he’d dropped it near the door so he could ravish her.

“Shit,” Charlie cursed before holding out his hand and silently summoning it to his grasp. “You mind if I…?”

He nodded toward her abdomen and lower.

“Not at all,” Hermione smiled, sleepy after two explosive orgasms.

Charlie smirked, quickly muttering the contraceptive charms over the two of them before tossing his wand aside again and engulfing her breast in his mouth.

“Ooooh!” Hermione moaned, arching, clinging to his powerful shoulders.

He balanced on his elbows, bringing his raging desire to bear at her entrance and Hermione squeaked as he nipped her nipple before crawling up to claim her mouth. He tasted like her, but Hermione didn’t mind, she was too focused on the feel of so much heated flesh prodding insistently at her entrance.

“Blimey, I love those sounds you make, love,” he murmured, breaking their kiss to glance down, guiding himself to her entrance before making eye contact.

He raised one eyebrow at her, silently confirming one last time that she wanted this.

“Please fuck me,” Hermione said impishly, and Charlie’s grin turned feral again before he pressed forward, breaching her and tunnelling deep. She was so wet from his attentions that he didn’t have to take his time and when he was seated to the hilt inside her, Hermione wanted to cry with joy.

Gods, nothing had ever felt so right in all her life!

“Oh my god, Charlie,” Hermione whispered, her arms curling around his back as she clung to him, desperate to keep him inside her forevermore. “You feel even better inside me than I imagined.”

Charlie groaned against her neck, kissing her skin distractedly as he slowly withdrew, nodding in agreement before he thrust in deep again. Hermione mewled her encouragement and pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so warm, _koroleva_ ,” he murmured. “Branding me with your fire. Christ, I could catch your fire forever.”

Hermione clung to him as he took her slow and hard, thrusting in and filling her to bursting before backing off only to do it again and again and again. Gods, she could do this forever. She could love on him forever. She wanted to. Merlin, she’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted him for her own so that he might love her like this every single day. When he slid his hands under her shoulders, balancing on his elbows so he could press more of himself to the deepest depths within her, Hermione thought she might die of happiness.

This had to be heaven.

“Come for me, love,” Charlie breathed into her ear, taking her deep and hard, his powerful strokes driving her to distraction. “I wanna hear you scream my name again.”

Hermione clung to him desperately, crazy for the feel of him inside her, desperate for another explosive orgasm. She wanted to feel him letting go inside of her and she almost regretted the contraceptives they’d employed because god, she wasn’t above desperate measures to make Charlie Weasley hers forever.

“Don’t stop,” Hermione begged him, clinging to him, kissing his neck hungrily and dragging her nails over his back, arching into every stroke. “Don’t ever stop, Charlie.”

He groaned, his pace increasing, faster and faster until the wet slapping sound of sex filled the room alongside her wanton cries and Hermione thought she might die. Gods, if she went now, at least she’d go out happy.

“Fuck,” Charlie cursed when she bit him desperately, rocking into him even harder.

He took her like a man possessed then, his body slamming into hers, fucking her brutally, his vicious strength brought to bear to bring her to the brink of bliss.

“Oh, god, Charlie,” Hermione whimpered desperately, clinging to him, panting helplessly. “Charlie… I’m gonna… I’m gonna… Charlie!”

Charlie groaned as her walls clamped around him like a vice, viciously clenching over and over again, milking him of his seed. He roared into her neck and bit her shoulder in return when he exploded deep inside her. He fucked her through it, emptying himself inside her and slowing his pace by increments before his elbows gave out and he collapsed on top of her.

They laid together quietly afterward; panting; Charlie pinning her to the mattress, her arms still around his back loosely. Hermione drifted in a sea of endorphins and bliss, enjoying the feel of him crushing her so deliciously, his body still joined with her own, loving the scent of him in her nose and the taste of him on her tongue.

“Better than you imagined, Hermione?” Charlie asked against her neck when he’d got his breath back.

“Mmmm,” Hermione hummed, truthful in her depleted harmony. “So much better. I don’t think I can go back to just _pretending_ being with you and using my fingers… Not after that.”

Charlie chuckled, groaning a little as he lifted off her far enough to roll to the side and sprawling on his back, still panting a little as he stretched out, drained.

“My door’s always open, _koroleva_ ,” he told her, reaching one hand to invite her closer, letting her burrow into his side and pillow her cheek on his chest. “Any time you want to repeat that, you know where to find me.”

Hermione laughed.

“I might as well just move in now, then,” she muttered against his skin, sleepy and exhausted after their exertions.

Charlie laughed softly as though he imagined she was joking, and Hermione let the matter drop as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. When she woke him again much later for another round, and again in the wee small hours preluding dawn, and again when sounds of other people stirring downstairs and preparing for work woke her, Hermione wondered if Charlie might come to regret his offer for repeating their coupling.

All day while she worked, she was driven to distraction by the delicious ache in her muscles and the vague sting between her legs if she sat at the wrong angle. She smiled all throughout her daily meetings and the other tasks she had to perform, and when she returned home, she was disappointed to find Charlie wasn’t in yet. She’d retired to the drawing room with a book by the time she heard his boots on the stairs and she watched him pass the door over the top of her book without a word, noting that he darted a look inside and met her eyes before winking briefly and continuing upstairs to his room and then the shower.

Hermione bided her time after that, letting him complete his evening routine of showering and wolfing down some dinner and challenging Ron and Harry to a game of chess after the meal. All the while she read her book and pressed her legs together, desperate to jump his bones all over again. She watched him as he moved, as she’d grown so used to doing these past years that she’d lusted after him and when he retired to bed for the evening before some of the others did, Hermione waited a little while longer to avoid drawing suspicion to their activities. She waited until she finished her book before quietly retiring too, bidding the others goodnight.

Slowly, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, wondering if she shouldn’t just keep climbing to Charlie’s instead, or if that might be a little too presumptuous. When she slipped inside her room, thinking she might change into something a little easier to slip in and out of, and debating whether to sneak up to his room, Hermione sighed softly as she closed the door.

When she turned, her stomach triple-backflipped. There, sitting on the end of her bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, his intense eyes fixed upon her and just waiting for her to join him, shirtless, was Charlie.

“ _Koroleva_ ,” he greeted her quietly when Hermione squeaked, clutching her heart in surprise to find him there.

“Charlie?” she asked quietly, blinking at him.

Charlie didn’t say anything else before he rose to his feet, his long strides eating up the space between them quickly. When he reached her, he scooped his hands under her arse and hiked her up his body quickly. His lips slammed down on hers before he pressed her into the closed bedroom door, desperate for her as though the four times they’d shagged the night before hadn’t been enough to take the edge off; as though the sixteen hours they’d spent apart had been too long; as though he was a junkie craving that next glorious hit. Matching his passion, Hermione kissed him hungrily, her hands tangling in his red hair and her body singing with need all over again and she hoped every evening would end this way from now on.


End file.
